


Shadows and Castle Walls

by autoluminescence



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoluminescence/pseuds/autoluminescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ariadne tastes her castle and Arthur should probably step away from the Douglas Adams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows and Castle Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "dreaming and synaesthesia" at the Cunnilingus and Chocolate ficathon.

When she’s building, forming, shaping in the first level, sharp turns taste crisp, like the small end of a cucumber. Small hide-aways almost make her mouth pucker with sour, and open fields have a cloying sweetness that makes here stomach ache and mouth dry.

She’s building a sprawling castle now, with turrets and dungeons, trapdoors and drafty halls, and at least one staircase that only goes down.

It’s one of her best designs yet. It’s not right at all.

It has a taste that’s just wriggling at the corner of her mind, a sense memory she can’t quite grasp in her hands, slipping through her fingers like silk every time she tries to bring it forth. It’s salty and pungent, almost like the Thai takeaway from the hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the block, or almost like the sheets of seaweed she’d eat by the handful as a child.

(Arthur’s been binging on cheesy sci-fi in his off hours, lately – he says it’s important for them to know their history – and she chuckles slightly at the thought of what his reaction would be. _Almost_ , she thinks, _but not quite, entirely unlike tea._ )

…

Work – for all that it is their lives, she has to compartmentalize it as a _just a job_ , sometimes, or she’d go mad – is boxed up neatly in the back of her mind now, legs wrapped around Arthur’s waist, already shuddering and gasping beneath him from kisses, both of them still fully clothed.

She cants her hips upwards, mindlessly seeking friction from his body, as he slides a hand under her shirt and starts massaging her breasts, each squeeze and pinch setting off an explosion of sparks that skitter across her skin.

Arthur’s tongue is thrusting rhythmically into her mouth until she’s sucking on it desperately, hot-wet-rough inside her like she wants _everywhere_.

He breaks away and grins down at her, licking his lips because yes, he knows _exactly_ what his tongue does, and her whole body jerks a little from the sight. He starts sliding down between her legs, stopping to ruck her shirt up enough to lick a searing path across her ribs, sucking at the soft skin above her hipbone hard enough to leave a mark.

He keeps moving down, and down, and in a dream, this would be the part where her pants conviently disappear to regions unknown. Instead, Arthur teasingly unzips them and slides them slowly down and off, and starts massaging her ankle. She can’t help the needy little whimpers that escape when he works his way back up her calves, strong hands gripping and rubbing, breaking her muscles down, reducing her to a writhing mess on the bed. There’s a hot, empty ache between her legs.

The air’s thick with heady pleasure, rolling through her body with every breath, and Arthur finally brings his mouth up to her, licking one long stripe over her panties, already nearly soaked through. The next moment, with nearly dreamlike ease, she’s been divested of them completely, naked from the waist down for Arthur’s perusal.

He starts with soft kitten-licks at her folds, and she just wants to press down into the heat of his mouth, to let it fill it up and overwhelm her until nothing else exists. She digs her heels into his back, instead, pulling him into her. He groans a little at the pressure, and she can just barely see his hips circling, riding the sheets a little. It still hits her like nothing else – she can do that to him by just _being_ – and digs her heels in harder, feeling his moan vibrate up against her, sending them both spinning into the feedback loop of sensation.

They’re moving together, now; her thighs squeeze over his shoulders and he presses his tongue in and in, undoing her from within; she arches up and he latches his lips over her clit, sucking hard enough that she bucks and screams, fisting her fingers in his hair, holding him still.

Her entire body is rushing forward, reaching, _almost there don’tstop_ , and he slides one finger into her and she _snaps_ , keens, neck bowing back and fire ripping through her as she comes, over and around him.

She’s still trembling from the aftershocks – the back of her legs twitching uncontrollably, tremors working their way through her fingers – as he slides back up, gripping her hair and sealing their mouths together.

It’s like a key suddenly slotting into place, gears whirring until it all comes together, and she has to pull back a little to laugh, giddy and delighted.

He wrinkles his eyebrows down at her. “Should I be insulted?”

“No, no, I just,” she reaches up to cup his face, bringing him back down. “I found my castle.”


End file.
